


Light-hearted

by DredgenTrust



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Cannibalism, Dark, Horror, Please do mind the tags, Story-Telling, not actually ASMR but god wouldn't that be something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 17:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20246413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DredgenTrust/pseuds/DredgenTrust
Summary: Drifter cooks for you and tells you a story [ASMR](not actually ASMR)





	Light-hearted

Where’d this recipe come from? You sure ask a lot of questions, considerin’ I don’t _have_ to be feedin’ ya. But sure. I’ll bite.

So, this one? This was a dark ages special. Little village outta the way made a name for itself with its cookin’. Put a lot of heart into it, really _meant_ something to them. This one was somethin’ of a specialty, a once a year kinda thing.

Wha-? Ok yeah, shut up, I know. Had the stuff for it, and sure there’s a lot going on planetside while you’re stuck up here with me. Happy Dawning or whatever, damn, lemme finish the story.

Anyway, the folks I heard this from were real old, ‘flip a coin next winter’ kinda old. And they’d been real young at the time, so take it with a pinch of salt. But it’s what they told me, so I’ll pass it on without messin’ with it too much.

Like I said, dark ages. Fun little time, tryin’ to carve a little space out for yourself against the world and all the mean mugs who lived in it. An’ that was just us Lightbearers tryin’ to keep on both feet, for everyone else? Hell, I almost envied ‘em for getting to give it up once something took ‘em down. But they _did_ go down, and no ghost pulled ‘em back from it. Whole villages would disappear overnight sometimes, that got on the wrong side of warlords or one another or just the hell the planet could deal out all by itself.

Torwick got hit hard by that last option. Blight, crops dead, animals not long behind an’ nobody for weeks who coulda helped even if they wanted. Real isolated place, up on the moors. Kept ‘em safe from people, bein’ in the back end of nowhere. Worked, too. Meant when folks went from lean to starvin’, there wasn’t a damn place they could go for help. Don’t know if it woulda mattered though, things were tight for everyone back then. Helpin’ your neighbour’s fine, but if it means takin’ bread from your kid’s mouth there’s not many who’d do it.

Course, they lasted longer than most. Had a Lightbearer, one of the less shit ones. Had been tryin’ his best to go mortal, least as much as he could without puttin’ a bullet to his ghost. Hung up the gun, stopped usin’ the light ‘cept for firestartin’ and helpin’ out. Nice guy, as they go. Probably woulda fucked off in a few years, got bored and left.

Anyway, stupid sonuvabitch went an’ got himself killed, an’ it kicked things off in a real way. Man got clumsy, somethin’ stupid we’ve all died to. Slipped the wrong way with somethin’ sharp, bled out fast. An’ then he got found.

Well. That’s a lot of meat lyin’ around, for a town whose kids ain’t eaten proper in a week. Kinda thing that’s not exactly best regarded, but if you haven’t been there chances are you will someday. Meat’s meat, when you’re hungry enough. You won’t eat what you’re given, you’re dead fast. An’ that’s for you, with your ghost. Normal folks? You’re gone for good and so’s your family. So yeah, they made use of him. Cut ‘im up, saved what they could, everyone got to eat that day. Didn’t tell the kids in so many words, told ‘em they’d found a pig. Yeah, I know. Random pig just walkin’ around in a famine. Don’t think those who were old enough to think too hard about it wanted to, honest.

‘Sides, they’re similar enough tastes. It’s all about that balance, fat to muscle and how it’s put together. How it gets used. Pretty similar once you get into the-ok, ok, sorry. Gettin’ off track, I get it.

‘Course, everyone was real respectful an’ shit. Laid ‘im to rest, said some words, made a soup from the bones ‘cause marrow’s still good an’ so’s the scraps an’ I won’t fault em for that neither. But once they’d done with em, in the ground they went and everyone got on with it. ‘Til the ghost caught up with him anyway, back from tryin’ to get word to anyone who’d give a damn. Hadn’t managed it, far as I can guess. Not surprised, ghosts were bad news with or without their hanger-on. But havin’ that guy pulled back, made flesh again, like he’d never been gone… After everyone had finally eaten good, not a scratch on ‘im and lookin’ like he wasn’t even hungry? Yeah, can’t blame ‘em too much for what happened next.

Well, maybe a little. But honest, it was one hell of a solution to a real bad problem.

Folks I heard this one from weren’t too sure which way ‘round it went; whether the guy was actually down for it, if he needed some persuadin’, if he had to be held down screamin’ with a gun to his ghost. Think probably that middle one, an’ the ‘persuadin’ might have taken a while if you catch my drift. Can’t blame _him_ too much for that, neither. Folks are nice an’ all, but I’m attached to myself an’ I wanna keep it that way. But way it panned out was, him an’ his ghost took a long stay somewhere nice an’ quiet, an’ the town got to have meat a couple times a week. Even he ended up goin’ for it eventually, once things got lean enough. A ghost can keep you alive through hunger, sure. Still hurts like hell, still _feels_ like death. An’ there was nothin’ else to be had, so…

Guy kept that village alive, for sure. Famine lasted _years_, an’ no-one ever came. Not folks nearby, not travellers – hell, even those fuckers spoilin’ for a fight gave the place a miss. Didn’t hear nor see from anybody, not in half a decade. Crops never recovered, not with the seed stores rotten. Foraging kept ‘em close to healthy, but only to keep teeth in their skulls and stop their skin peelin’ from their bones. Not to keep alive on, not to keep goin’. Wild animals stayed the hell away too, just turned into a dead place. One with people in it, keepin’ living despite it all.

Can’t’ve been too bad for the guy, I guess. Folks remembered seein’ him an’ his ghost out, walkin’ around. Talkin’ to people like they didn’t know he was a walkin’ larder, like they weren’t livin’ off him every day. So yeah, not so bad. Old lady who told me the story just said she remembered him bein’ tired as hell, movin’ like he hurt. Enough times dyin’ the same way does that to a guy though. Builds up, mind keeps expectin’ something even if the body’s fine. Gotta keep some variety goin’, else your ends are gonna keep hauntin’ ya.

Guy didn’t have to do it though, not once he was out of whatever messed-up negotiations there were. Coulda left, maybe. Hell, coulda killed the whole place stone dead with nothin’ but his hands, just for darin’ to touch him. Lotta folks did that back then. Too nice though. Real problem, that. Folks see children starvin’, they get all sentimental and start wonderin’ if it’s really fair just to be keepin’ all that meat on themselves where it belongs.

Stupid as hell, that kinda thinkin’.

Then again, way I heard it told he didn’t exactly get a fully raw deal. You become the one thing keepin’ folks alive, people appreciate it like hell. Guy got anythin’ he wanted, whatever he could ask for. Almost a kinda worship, after a couple years. Don’t know how much he appreciated it, but not sure that mattered much either. Folks wanna focus on somethin’, an’ they go for people when they can. Like to put a face to the good ‘an bad in the universe, makes it easier to love or hate. So yeah, some kinda weird messed-up worship stuff goin’ on. Kids just remembered knowin’ that the guy was keepin’ them alive, that he was real important an’ if they were rude to him they’d get a talkin’ to. All knew where the food was comin’ from by that point, those old enough to ask or worry ‘bout it. Most still just a bit too young to worry ‘bout the ethics of the situation.

Folks came to the town eventually, traded for food or seeds or whatever it was they needed to get the place livin’ again. Last I heard, it’s doin’ ok. One of the only places from then that still is, far as I know. Folks are long dead though; you won’t hear much about ‘em neither. Not in the City, anyway. People like to shove that shit under the rug real fast, don’t want anyone gettin’ ideas about what guardians are good for.

Still, five years. Same meat, real limited options for what to put with it. Gets boring real fast, ‘cept no-one likes bein’ bored by somethin’ like that. Not with the amount of weird reverence they were throwin’ at the guy, nobody wants to be the fucker goin’ “god, wish we had some salt.” Not when someone’s gotta die for it, even if he gets better. So they start gettin’ real creative, make it a form of worship. Workin’ to make sure the meal’s as good as possible, usin’ everythin’ they can. Really start gettin’ into the complex shit, contrasting flavours and ways to prepare the meat ‘fore usin’ it. Proper stuff considerin’ what they got is mushrooms, berries, bunch of roots, mint an’ lemonbalm ‘cause they grow like hell no matter what, an’ about a person worth of meat at a time.

Yeah, you tastin’ the lemon? Nearly as good; dried stuff don’t taste the same an’ it’s too cold in here for a garden.

Aw, don’t look at me like that. You’re fine, it’s fine. Finish your damn meal, spent a bunch of time makin’ it. Rude not to appreciate such fine cookin’, anyway.

‘Sides, nothin’ wrong with what you’re eatin’, nothin’ sordid. Pretty sure the Lightbearer ain’t even dead, wherever the sorry bastard is. Think they switched to real pork for the recipes these days, same as me. Tastes pretty much the same, like I said. Woman who told me the story, taught me the recipe, she used pig for it. Got all wistful, said it tasted “almost like home.” Didn’t stick around long after that, won’t lie.

Anyway, once a year. Coldest darkest day, everyone gathered ‘round just to keep warm, an’ they make somethin’ real simple. Part ‘cause it’s cold an’ dark an’ nobody wants to try doin’ a fuckin sous-vide when the sky’s tryin’ to freeze you solid. Part ‘cause everyone eats the same thing, shares the meal. So, roast the normal meat, bones and the rest make a good stew. Real, ha, hearty. Not the actual heart though, everyone gets this thin slice of it so’s they can share it. Even the Lightbearer.

Nah, no heart for you. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Pig heart ‘parently don’t taste right anyway, don’t go right. Real economic though, the rest of it. No waste. Everyone eats ‘til there’s nothin’ left, so’s the gift’s properly appreciated. Hell of a thing to do, lettin’ any of somethin’ like that go to waste.

Anyway. Like I said. Eat up.


End file.
